Slow clap, friend.

Leveraging people’s pity into monthly windfalls and using pathetic circumstances and faux humility as a shield from criticism may work for other writers, but that’s not your jam.

Your time on Medium was significant.

You offered something to the platform. You didn’t just take.

You contributed quality. You added valued. You elevated yourself and others.

You curated.

You mattered here.

And, unlike some others, you will continue to matter once this platform no longer exists.

It was stomach-turning to see certain authors forging readers’ sympathy into a weapon against someone who dared to disagree with them.

It was disheartening to see the bully claim to be the victim and manipulate strategic mischaracterizations of you to garner cheap claps and sycophantic commentary.

It was nauseating to watch someone feed their need for attention and ego-strokes by defaming your character.

But when those authors depend on people’s pity as their bread and butter, I’m not sure what else anyone could’ve realistically expected.

Certainly not a private e-mail politely parting ways and wishing you well — as you offered them. No, they were gonna make a quick buck off the injury to their ego.

I imagine they couldn’t help themselves. It’s what they do on here every day.

Honesty isn’t saying what people want to hear to placate them or pandering to the masses. It’s being brave and annihilating your ego to find the truth, not just reframing the story to render yourself blameless. It’s telling people when you think they are wrong and taking the emotional risk of enduring their wrath when it turns out they’re not ready to take responsibility. That’s what a friend does.

You are honest and you are a friend.

And Medium is no longer your problem.

I support you, Jonathan Greene.

You don’t need the approval of the masses when your tribe has your back.

Let others pander for pity and outrage and make declarative statements about how the world should be in order to justify not doing a damn thing about their circumstances.

You’re better than that.

See you on the other side, friend.

Mama, writer, lover, fighter — I wear my heart on my sleeve because my pants pockets are too small.

Mama, writer, lover, fighter — I wear my heart on my sleeve because my pants pockets are too small.